The Radiant Dragon

Chapter Five

"I'm not dead yet," Teldin informed the elf with as much vehemence as he could muster. Anger coursed through his veins, deadening his pain and renewing his resolve. If the elves once again hoped to take the cloak off his dead body, they were in for one more disappointment. By Paladine, Teldin vowed as he struggled to his feet, he'd live just to spite the pointy-eared bastards.

Despite the surge of energy his anger lent him, the effort was too much for Teldin, and a fresh stab of agony tore through his wounded side. Gasping through gritted teeth, he fell back to his knees, pushing away the elf s steadying hands.

Vallus Leafbower grimaced and shook his silver-haired head. "Perhaps you're not yet dead, Teldin Moore, but you soon will be if your wounds are not tended." The elf looked up and raised on hand in a quick, imperious gesture. Five uniformed elves hurried to his side. "Get this man aboard the swan ship and take him to the healer," Vallus directed them.

Two of the elves started to do Vallus's bidding, but something in Teldin's eyes stopped them. "I'll see you in the Abyss first," he told Vallus coldly.

"That is a distinct possibility," the elf returned with equal warmth. "The man-o-war is burning, and I will not leave you behind. If you don't let us help you, we're all dead."

"But the battle-"

"Is over," Vallus concluded firmly.

Teldin hesitated, listening. The battle sounds had dwindled to a few scattered clangs, a few faint moans. Smoke billowed up from the stairwell, and a faint, ominous crackling came from beneath the deck. "Take me to the Valkyrie, then," Teldin said resignedly.

"The illithid's wizard slaves hit the drakkar with a barrage of spells." Vallus's flat tone and steady gaze made it clear that Teldin's ship was gone.

"And the crew?" Teldin demanded, not able to take it all in. Vallus turned to one of the other elves and raised his silver eyebrows in inquiry.

"A small longboat got away before the drakkar exploded. We took the survivors aboard the Trumpeter," the elf reported.

Dread filled Teldin. "Some of my crew boarded the man-o-war. Have any survived?"

"I'm sorry," Vallus said gently.

Teldin slumped, despairing. More deaths tallied on his slate, all due to the cloak. Whatever the Spelljammer might be, it couldn't be worth this.

The elf rose to his feet. "Come."

He had no choice but to go with the elves, Teldin realized. He nodded dully, numb to the core. "Take Estriss first. His wounds are worse than mine."

"Estriss?" Vallus echoed in disbelief. The elf squinted through the smoke at the crumpled form beside Teldin, then with a cry of recognition he dropped to his knees beside his former captain. Gently turning the unconscious illithid over, Vallus bent to peer into the empty white eyes. "Barely alive," he murmured distractedly. He looked up at the other elves, who had formed a tight, curious circle around him. "Take these two to the swan ship, now," he commanded.

As Vallus spoke, another sharp-edged perception penetrated the pain and anger that clouded Teldin's mind:

Vallus's concern and distress were genuine. For the first time, Teldin wondered whether his harsh judgment of the elven wizard was warranted.

Two of the elven warriors exchanged glances. "Take a mind flayer aboard?" one of them ventured.

Vallus was on his feet in a heartbeat. "Now!" he thundered. The elves hastily lifted the wounded illithid and headed for the flitter that had landed on the Nightstalker's deck.

As gentle hands lifted Teldin to his feet, a faint groan came from the deck and the waxen figure of Teldin's navigator stirred. Hectate Kir was alive.

"The half-elf!" Teldin demanded weakly, clinging to what he knew about his friend. "You have to bring the half-elf."

"Why not?" one of the elves grumbled, looking on with distaste as a comrade hoisted the unconscious Hectate over his shoulder. "We might as well complete our collection of oddities."

"That's enough, Gaston," Vallus snapped. Before he could say more, the dracons thundered around the corner. Trivit, as usual, was in the lead. He drew up short when he saw Teldin, and Chirp bumped heavily into him.

"Siripsotrivitus reporting, Captain Teldin Moore, sir," Trivit announced in his fluting, formal cadences as he snapped off a salute. "The illithid slaves have been routed, though I must say we've had a beastly time telling one elf from another. Some few of the illithids and their slaves escaped in flitters, but Chiripsian and I have dispatched all those who remained on board." The dracon paused, and his lower lip trembled. "As you know, sir, the illithids deceived us. We are… without a clan."

Remembering what Estriss had said about the dracons' clan mentality, Teldin suspected what was coming next. Sure enough, Trivit drew his sword and raised it in a salute, then he laid it on the deck before Teldin.

"Kaba," Trivit said simply, but his reptilian eyes pleaded.

The dracons had adopted him as their clan leader! Teldin's frustration bordered on despair. Would there be no end to the responsibility he was forced to assume? He took a deep, calming breath, knowing that if he did not accept this role, the adrift dracons would die.

Teldin challenged Vallus with his eyes. "They come," he said evenly, then he turned to glare at the elf named Gaston, the one who had spoken slightingly of Hectate. The elf raised both hands in rueful surrender.

A deep boom began in the hold of the Nightstalker, echoing throughout the ship. The man-o-war was breaking up.

"Time to go," Vallus said abruptly. As the elves half-carried Teldin to the flitter, he found himself thinking about Netarza and wondering whether he had heard the last from the mind flayers of Falx.

Vallus Leafbower watched the unconscious human with deep concern. Three days had elapsed since the battle with the illithid ship, and Teldin Moore had yet to regain consciousness. The knife that had struck Teldin had been treated with poison, and after several tries the ship's healer managed to decoct a potion to counteract it. Teldin's delirium had faded within hours, and the restraints binding him to the narrow cot had been removed as soon as it was safe to do so. Vallus did not want Teldin to awaken to the perception that he was being held prisoner in some way.

Throughout the process Vallus had attended the human, praying for his recovery with a deep, desperate fervor. As if in response to his prayers, the human's eyelids fluttered, then opened. Teldin Moore's cornflower blue eyes looked dim and "disoriented, but relief flooded the elven wizard. By order of the grand admiral, Vallus would have had to done the cloak if the man had died. Having seen the results with Teldin, he wasn't looking forward to the experience.

"I am glad you're back, Teldin Moore," Vallus said from the heart.

The human's eyes met his, focused, then narrowed. Vallus suppressed a sigh. Despite Cirathorn's treachery, Vallus was startled by the extent of Teldin Moore's animosity toward the elves. Perhaps, Vallus thought with dismay, his task would be more difficult than he'd anticipated.

Teldin tried to speak, but the sound caught in his dry throat and sent him into a weak spasm of coughing. He grimaced and touched his left hip. Despite the elves' best efforts, the wound was still angry and red. Vallus motioned for the healer.

Deelia Snowsong glided to the bedside. She slipped one hand behind Teldin's neck and lifted his head, holding a goblet to his lips. Teldin managed several painful swallows and nodded his thanks. As he focused on his elven attendant, his eyes widened with wonder. Deelia was pale even for an elf, with hair and skin the color of a snowdrift. The elves from her ice-covered homeworld were tiny, seldom reaching five feet, and their ethereal beauty gave pause even to other elves.

There was admiration in Teldin Moore's eyes, of course, but Vallus saw something far more important. The human's curiosity and wonder struck an answering chord in Vallus's soul, which sang with a burning, childlike need to know. This need had defined the wizard's life, first by his choice of profession, and then by seducing him from his homeworld and sending him into wildspace. Once again the elf saw in Teldin a flicker of the flame that burned in his own heart. Someone had implanted in Teldin Moore the need to explore, to question, and to know. Perhaps the human had suppressed this need, but it was there and Vallus would exploit it.

"Where-" Teldin broke off, painfully clearing his throat. Frustration was written clearly upon his face.

"You are aboard the Trumpeter, a swan ship of the elven Imperial Fleet," Vallus told him. Anticipating some of the human's questions, he continued.

"You have been gravely ill, unconscious for almost three days. The knife that wounded you was poisoned, but thanks to Deelia Snowsong, our healer, you should suffer no long-term effects. Your ship was destroyed in battle, as was most of your crew. We picked up but two survivors, a gnome woman and an aperusa."

"Figures," Teldin croaked through a small, crooked smile.

Vallus nodded, understanding. In the three days since the battle, he had noted that the gypsy Rozloom had an uncanny aptitude for self-preservation.

The human's brow knitted in sudden concern. "Estriss? Hectate?"

Vallus nodded reassuringly. "Our illithid friend is much improved. In fact, he is anxious to speak with you and has been asking for you hourly. Of the half-elf, I have less news. Since the battle he has kept to his cabin. Our healer examined him and could find no sign of injury. The effects were very similar to those following the casting of a powerful spell, and after resting for a day he recovered fully. I take it the half-elf is a mage of some power?"

Teldin hesitated, then nodded. He knew relatively little about bionoids, but they undoubtedly were magical. He vowed to himself that he would learn more as soon as he could. Vallus did not miss the troubled expression that crossed the human's face, and for the first time the elven wizard felt more than a passing interest in Hectate Kir. Whatever the half-elfs secrets were, they must not be allowed to interfere.

Vallus rose and gave Teldin another reassuring smile. "You need rest. I will leave you to it."

"No."

Teldin Moore struggled into an upright position, brushing away Deelia's restraining hands. After motioning for Vallus to stay, he accepted the healer's offer of water and took several more sips. The human's face was still pale and drawn, but it was set in grim determination as he struggled to gather his strength behind the force of his will. Vallus watched and approved.

"What do you want?" Teldin asked bluntly.

The elven wizard settled back down in his chair and began his answer at the appropriate place. "When we last met, I gave you a warning and some advice. You should have taken the cloak to the elves of Evermeet, where the Imperial Fleet maintains an embassy."

Teldin harrumphed, and Vallus held up a temporizing hand. "Yes, I know about Admiral Cirathorn. That was most unfortunate, and the Imperial Fleet has sent me to ensure that such a thing does not happen again." At this news, the human's face hardened with skepticism.

"If you had done as I'd suggested and sought out the Evermeet elves," Vallus continued, "you might have been spared that experience. The elves of Evermeet are a peaceful nation, and there you would have had the time and protection needed to seek answers. War forces individuals to make difficult choices. Even so," he allowed, "I would dare say that Admiral Cirathorn made the wrong choice."

Teldin huffed again, but this time in agreement. The elven wizard took this as a good sign and pressed his point. "The Imperial Fleet agrees. I have been dispatched to help you find the Spelljammer." He paused to let Teldin digest this.

"Why?" Teldin asked.

"Frankly? We want you to find the ship, Teldin Moore."

"Why?" he asked again.

"We hope to persuade you to use the great ship on behalf of the elves. No, wait. Let me finish. The war is taking a terrible toll. If something is not done, the Imperial Fleet, the elven network that is the single stabilizing element in wildspace, could be no more."

"So?"

The human's response was so like the one predicted by the grand admiral that Vallus's patience wavered. Too much was depending on Teldin Moore; they must get past this newly minted bigotry of his.

"What would you have take the elves' place?" the wizard asked sharply. "The scro? Or perhaps the neogi?"

His last words hit their mark. Teldin's eyes drifted closed, and his face tightened into a mask of confusion and despair. The elf rose to leave, and his parting words were offered in a calmer tone. "I am not certain how much you have learned about the cloak since we parted, Teldin Moore, but know this: You have in your possession the ability to command the greatest ship ever known. That is power. The nature of power is that it must be used as a force for good or ill. Very soon you will have to decide exactly how to use that power."

The human's only response was a faint snore. Vallus shook his silver head, and a small, self-mocking smile curved his lips. So much for his fine speeches. The poor human had barely regained consciousness, only to be bombarded with tales of elven woes.

Teldin Moore needed time to rest and recover. Time, unfortunately, was something that the elven nation could not spare. As Vallus walked slowly from the cabin, the grand admiral's deadline pressed heavily upon him. The elven wizard paused at the door of the cabin and looked back at the sleeping human.

"I doubt this would be any consolation to you, my friend, but, in all truth, I do not envy you your decision," he said softly.

For Teldin, the next two days aboard the swan ship Trumpeter seemed to crawl by. His wound was slow to heal, and the lingering effects of the poison were so debilitating that he was not able leave his cot for more than a few minutes at a time. From what Deelia Snowsong told him about drow elves and their skill at making poisons, Teldin reckoned he was lucky to be alive at all. That knowledge, however, did little to stem his growing restlessness, or to ease his apprehension about being a virtual prisoner on an elven ship. He had no idea where the ship was or where it was bound. Several times he asked to see Vallus Leafbower, but he was always told that he was not well enough to receive visitors:

On the second day, the vigilant healer finally announced that visitors were permissible. Within moments, Estriss appeared at the door of the cabin. Teldin hauled himself upright and greeted him with an almost comic degree of enthusiasm. The illithid's lavender facial tentacles flared outward in an expression of surprise, but he came into the cabin and lowered himself into the chair at Teldin's bedside without comment.

I take it you are well enough to talk, Teldin Moore? Estriss's mental voice held a touch of wry amusement, but his three-fingered hands smoothed the deep maroon silk of his robe in quick, nervous gestures.

Teldin nodded reassuringly, wanting to put the creature at ease. "To tell you the truth, a little conversation would probably speed up the healing process. I've never been so tired of my own company," he said ruefully. "What about you? Are you fully recovered?"

Estriss shrugged. The human gesture did not translate well to illithid anatomy, and the odd, disjointed movement of his shoulders contrasted sharply with the easy grace of his weaving tentacles. Without warning, Teldin felt the intensity of Estriss's desire to set things straight between them. The illithid's sincerity burned in Teldin's mind, as bright and earnest as if the emotion had been his own.

The cloak again? wondered Teldin. Did these flashes of insight signal the emergence of another magic power? Teldin took a long, deep breath and held it, as if he could absorb the magic and let it sharpen his thinking for all time. He'd been wrong about Estriss once, and he realized that a second chance was a rare gift. With this in mind, Teldin exhaled slowly and began.

"We have a lot to talk about."

We do indeed, the illithid agreed avidly. He folded his hands on his silken lap and straightened decisively.

I believe I have come to understand the reason for your mutiny, Teldin Moore, Estriss began. The news that the illithids of Falx sought your cloak, combined with the admittedly unlikely coincidence of your rescue from the pirates by my ship: these things did not supply your motivation. If you bad asked me about these matters, we easily could have come to an understanding. You made no attempt to do so. I thought about this while you were ill, wondering why, after our many frank discussions, you did not see fit to bring your concerns tome. Then I remembered that the woman Rianna Wyvernsbane had placed a charm spell upon you, which meant that you were magically disposed to believe her. She probably suggested that I was not trustworthy. Was this not the case?

"In the main, yes," Teldin admitted reluctantly, unconsciously pleating the bedclothes between his fingers. Estriss's explanation inadequately described the events during that time, and left out Aelfred's duplicity, but it was essentially correct. Rianna's influence over him had aspects that the genderless illithid could not understand, and Teldin himself did not care to dwell on the matter. Even now, the memory of Rianna's treachery made him cringe. The love he'd felt for her had faded with the effects of the charm spell, but he had to admit that he'd been an easy one to ensorcell.

From the very beginning, he had been taken with Rianna and had allowed his attraction for her to overwhelm his caution. Estriss was basically correct: to lure Teldin into the neogi's trap, Rianna had told her then lover about the Falx mind flayers and insinuated that Estriss could not be trusted. Teldin had believed her and trusted her, and his near-fatal error in judgment still haunted him.

As the victim of a spell, you were blameless in this matter, Estriss continued with what Teldin considered an excess of generosity. The illithid raised a cautioning, red-tinged finger. You should know, however, that I have related this incident to Vallus Leafbower. As captain of the swan ship, he has a right to know about your mutiny as well as the circumstances surrounding it.

"I suppose you're right, but I'd doubt Vallus is worried about a repeat performance." Teldin managed a crooked grin, trying to lighten the awkward conversation with a little humor. "Can you see a group of elves rising up in mutiny to aid a mere human?"

Estriss cocked his head slightly as if he were thinking the matter over. Actually, no, but neither did I want Vallus to hear about that incident through other channels. If you and he are to join forces, it would not do to have him unfairly prejudiced against you, he said earnestly.

Teldin nodded, appreciating the illithid's evenhanded-ness. This was more like the Estriss he thought he knew: a being who possessed a strong moral code and a philosophical nature. It was difficult for Teldin to reconcile this Estriss with his own lingering suspicions.

"I've often wondered why you attacked the neogi in the arcane's ship," Teldin ventured. Of all the questions he harbored, he started with the most difficult. The memory of that moment was indelibly etched in his mind: the neogi's hideous, eellike head lunging for Estriss's throat, its needle-sharp teeth glinting wickedly; the ancient Juna knife in Estriss's hands, and the illithid's tentacles struggling to find purchase on the neogi's long neck or spiderlike body. Teldin would always remember the dull horror he'd felt when Rianna's magic missile spell broke the ship's window and sent the combatants tumbling into the void.

Estriss spread his three-fingered hands before him. What else should I have done? I could not allow the cloak to fall into the neogi's grasp.

"Your motivation was that simple?" Teldin wondered aloud.

Few matters can be viewed as right and wrong, black and white. The neogi are one of life's rare exceptions..

Sincerity rang in the illithid's answer, but Teldin's mind still was not at ease. "What about our first meeting?"

Your rescue from the pirates was no coincidence, Estriss admitted candidly. You obviously have learned that the Probe landed on one of the moons of Zivilyn. I had arranged a meeting there with Hemar, a reigar adventurer who recently had escaped from a neogi slave ship with two magical objects, items I believed to be artifacts of the Juna. One was your cloak, of course. The other was an amulet of sorts, an ancient medallion. The second item was not in her possession.

Teldin blinked, startled, and his eyes darted involuntarily to the chest at the side of his bed. In it was the sack containing the medallion Gaye had given him after his battle with the scro general. Could the medallion he carried be the same one Estriss sought? Teldin's impression was that it was, but the connection seemed too fantastic for belief.

Hemar would not part with the cloak, Estriss continued, but in the course of our discussion she allowed me to handle it. After that, time, I found that I could sense its presence. "So you came after it," Teldin confirmed sadly.

The illithid responded with another crumpled shrug, and he turned his head aside as if he were too embarrassed to meet Teldin's eyes. That is true, but I sought the cloak for the same reason I seek all other suspected artifacts of the Juna. I realize that my theories concerning the Juna are not accepted or even respected, but it is my lifework to prove that this race existed. As I learned more about the cloak, its connection with the Spelljammer seemed likely. If my theory is correct, the Juna created the ship. If I can find the Spelljammer, I might find on board documents of some sort that will enable me to validate my lifework.

"And to control the most powerful ship known," Teldin added with a touch of cynicism.

Estriss hissed audibly but kept his head averted. Your experiences have jaded you, I see. Perhaps you are no longer able to believe this of me, but I have no interest in wielding such power. I am a scholar, a historian. What power I seek comes from knowledge.

The illithid's observation reminded Teldin of one of his grandfather's bits of homespun advice: A skunk by any name stills stinks. "The thirst for power takes many forms," Teldin paraphrased cautiously.

As do the uses of power, Estriss observed, fixing a white-eyed stare upon Teldin.

The mental voice held a quiet intensity. It was obvious that Estriss wanted to open a new line of discussion. Teldin made a note to come back to the topic later, but he still had questions of his own to cover. "You did not want me to give the cloak to the arcane T'k'pek," he remembered. "Why not?"

Estriss snorted, an odd hissing sound that sent his tentacles billowing upward in the most eloquent gesture of scorn Teldin had ever seen. I doubt T'k'pek would have made good use of the cloak. The arcane are merchants. Any one of them would love to have the Spelljammer as a base of operations or, more to the point, as a source of new technology. The reigar, from whom most of the arcane technology supposedly originated, have become so scarce as to be unreliable sources.

"The reigar?" Teldin echoed, his interest piqued. He had often wondered about the beautiful creature who had given him the cloak. For once he was grateful for the philosophical illithid's tendency to be sidetracked. "The arcane inventions came from the reigar?" he repeated.

It depends on whom you ask, Estriss said, his silent voice dry with sarcasm. Reigar creativity and inventiveness are legendary. They've been credited with such diverse creations as helots and helmsplicers.

Neither of the terms were familiar to Teldin, but he nodded sagely in an effort to keep Estriss from defining those terms.

The reigar have no patience for repetition. The arcane, on the other hand, are eager to manufacture the more marketable reigar inventions. As we have discussed before, the arcane are highly secretive, and they habitually deny that they maintain any connection with the reigar. Those few travelers who have encountered an esthetic-a reigar spell-jamming ship-invariably report that the vessel is crewed by arcane. Of course, the arcane on these esthetics always insist that they are chance-met passengers. The illithid punctuated the anecdote with an oddly snide little wriggle of his tentacles.

Teldin acknowledged the illithid's humor with an absent smile. As he sifted through the explanation, a new thought began to form in his mind, one appallingly simple and direct. "Is it possible that the reigar woman-Hemar, was it? — was referring to her own people, the reigar, when she told me to take the cloak to the creators?"

I suppose that is possible, Estriss said slowly. One tentacle quirked as he considered the matter. I have not heard that the reigar refer to themselves in that manner, but it would be like them. They are not known for their modesty.

Teldin pounded his cot with a balled fist. "Why didn't you tell me all this before?" he blurted out, more exasperated with himself than with Estriss. Too much time and too many lives had been spent in his searching for the mysterious "creators" to learn now that he'd missed the most obvious path.

The possibility didn't occur to me, Estriss admitted. His mental voice echoed Teldin's consternation. Perhaps it should have, but, as Aelfred Silverhorn often told me, my conclusions were sifted through my personal bias. Perhaps my search for the Juna blinded me to other possibilities for your quest. In all honesty, however, I don't think that this information on the reigar would have done you much good.

"Why not?"

The illithid threw up his hands, and the movement of his tentacles reflected his exasperation. Have you any idea how difficult it is to meet a reigar? You could search through three human lifetimes without encountering a single one, and even if you should find one, be would be unlikely to grant an audience to a human. Why? the illithid added pointedly, noting Teldin's open mouth and anticipating his question. The reigar are completely absorbed in their pursuit of art, and they define everything by its potential contribution to reigar art. These are beings who have little regard for the artistic ability of elves and who openly disdain the crafting skills of dwarfs. You can imagine what they think of humans. I mean no offense, Estriss hastily added.

"None taken," Teldin murmured distractedly. "Please go on."

This determination to push the horizons of art for art's sake ultimately explains the rare occurrence of reigar. Simply put, they went a bit too far.

"A bit too-"

They blew up their homeworld, Estriss interrupted bluntly. And that is another issue. If the reigar were to gain control of the Spelljammer, they would regard the ship as little more than a base for artistic experiments. Given the reigar's penchant for excess, it is an appalling prospect.

Teldin nodded slowly, taking it all in. Everything Estriss said supported his new theory about the identity of the cloak's creators. Oddly enough, it also bolstered his decision to keep the cloak himself. The reigar may well have created the cloak, but, if Estriss was to be believed, they hardly were suited to wielding it.

So, Teldin Moore, now that this matter is settled, why don't you tell me what you have learned of the cloak since we parted.

Teldin quickly outlined what had transpired since the fight with the neogi. He'd just described the cloak's power to propel ships when he was interrupted by a timid knock at the door. At Teldin's impatient summons, two large green heads poked into the cabin.

"I must say, it's marvelous to see you yourself again. You look splendid, especially considering that you're a human," Chirp said cheerfully. The dracon's words held not a hint of sarcasm, and his huge, dragonlike mouth curved up in a smile of ingratiating innocence. Despite his irritation with the interruption, Teldin could feel himself responding to the creatures' innocent goodwill.

"It's good to see you two as well," Teldin said sincerely. "What have you been up to?"

"Vallus Leafbower has a small but splendid library. We've been making some inquiries into your family background, Captain Teldin Moore," Trivit informed him solemnly, "and I must say it's most impressive."

Teldin blinked. His father had been a farmer, his grandfather a man of inherent wisdom and lively curiosity, but still poor and obscure. Teldin supposed he had a family tree beyond that, but he'd never seen any reason to try to climb it. "Do you mind if I ask how you traced my family?" he ventured.

"Not at all," Chirp piped, squeezing his dark green body into the cabin. "Vallus has a perfectly marvelous volume on the history of Krynn. A fascinating world, Krynn, but, of course, you'd already know that. We have traced your line back to Angor Dragonsbane, a great hero and one of the first humans on record on the continent of Ansalon."

"There are other lines of equal note," Trivit added. He edged into the room beside his brother, and the dracon pair launched into a convoluted tale, interweaving names from Krynnish history and folklore until Teldin grew dizzy trying to follow it all. So complex and detailed was the dracons' presentation that the dazed Teldin was inclined to believe it.

"We were fortunate in our choice of kaba," Trivit concluded in a tone ripe with self-congratulation. "As you may know, a dracon clan chief is chosen on the basis of lineage, and yours surpasses those of any ancient elvish house represented on this ship. For me to enumerate your list of titles would take-" Trivit broke off, wrinkling his rubbery face in an effort at calculation. After a moment, he shrugged. "Well, just ever so long."

"A most fortunate choice," echoed Chirp. "Our instincts were splendid, as usual," he said with blithe disregard for the illithid episode.

"Of course, we had to stop our study several generations before your birth. The elven history was not a current one," Trivit said ruefully.

The new-made nobleman smirked, suddenly understanding. His new and grandiose family tree was linked to him by no more than a great deal of wishful thinking.

"Perhaps you'd care to fill in the blanks for us?" Chirp suggested.

Teldin's smile collapsed. It was one thing to let the dracons concoct some fancy genealogy to support their choice of leader-and he got the distinct impression that his wasn't the first of such-but his innate sense of honesty would not allow him to contribute to the dracons' self-deception. Apparently sensing his consternation, Estriss took a defensive position at the foot of Teldin's bed.

At some later time, I'm sure Teldin Moore can oblige you. At the moment, however, he requires rest.

Mumbling apologies, the chastised dracons backed out of the cabin. The door gingerly creaked shut, and the hall rumbled under the dracons' version of a tiptoed retreat. Teldin gave in to a chuckle. He could have sworn that his friend's blank eyes held a hint of a twinkle, and he cocked an eyebrow at the smug illithid. "Thanks."

Not at all, Estriss demurred. You have not been the only target of the dracons' passion for genealogy. Chirp and Trivit have passed the days tracing the connections between and debating the merits of the various elven houses, until even the most lineage-proud elf on board has lost interest in the exercise. I can assure you, however, Estriss concluded with mock gravity, the dracons honor the heritage they invented for you over any elven background based, on fact.

Teldin grimaced. "I suppose I should talk to them."

Don't bother. They would listen politely and then ignore anything you said. Tothem, you are the kaba and that settles the matter. Now, Estriss concluded briskly, coming to the head of the bed, according to the ship's healer, you are ready to take a walk on deck. Are you interested?

In response, Teldin grinned and threw back the covers. He got out of bed far too quickly, though, and the moment his feet hit the floor he got the distinct and disconcerting impression that the small cabin suddenly had been filled with turbulent gray water.

Estriss closed a steadying hand around Teldin's arm. Perhaps the healer was a bit optimistic?

"No," Teldin said as soon as he could hear himself through the humming in his ears. "If I don't get out of this cabin soon, I'll go mad."

Estriss helped Teldin up to the deck. After the confinement of his cabin, the vastness of wildspace held all the promise and spirit-lifting magic of a warm spring morning. Teldin's mood slid, however, at the sight of the lone figure leaning on the swan ship's starboard rail.